


We Will Rise

by formyking (skinman)



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Harvest Festival, Pregnancy, Warning for mentioned past Miscarriage, Warning for sexual/sensual content, dauphin, french court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/formyking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As King there is no way to avoid the attentions of young, beautiful ladies, their families vying for their chance to gain royal favor in whatever 'disagreeable' way they can. The Harvest Festival provides, as far as many Lords are concerned, the perfect opportunity to parade their daughters in front of the King. However, the presence of a prepossessing, young Queen does wonders at warding off the majority of them, and this Queen in particular is simply glowing with a well-kept, precious secret she has yet to share even with her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Rise

“Stop fidgeting Eleanora. We will be there soon and you must look well-kept when you are presented to the King.” Eleanora’s father, Lord Perigord, sharply berated his daughter. Lord Perigord was not a patient man, nor a particularly wise one. A direct descendent of generations of nobles he was assured in his influence and proud of his bloodline. He was a man of good fortune, the Lord of a large section of land used primarily for duck farming.

The carriage went over a rock and Eleanora grabbed the window frame, her anxious hands leaving the fine green fabric of her best gown.

Eleanora’s brother, Antony, huffed at his father’s words, and would have rolled his eyes if he was a less conscious man. However, as it was, Antony preferred to avoid his father’s wrath, even when he knew himself to be right.

“Am I to understand that we will have a personal audience with his Majesty?” Eleanora asked bravely, knowing exactly what reaction her father would have to her words.

Lord Perigord sighed, sending his daughter a dark look. Cold, blue eyes under heavy grey bows. His mouth downturned behind his thin, silver-streaked beard.

The man laughed in a cruel fashion, “Don’t be so silly Eleanora. King Francis has no use for a Lord’s daughter in the Throne Room, do you think perhaps you shall aid him in his command of the realm? No, or course not; the Throne Room is where he and his Queen reside, their union one blessed by God for political gain. The only room you need think on is the King’s bedchamber.”

Eleanora’s face fell, the reality of her assignment hitting her with the weight of a plough-horse.

“Father!” Antony could no longer bear to keep quiet.

“Quiet, Anton!” His father snarled, “You know this is an opportunity for our family to rise I will not pass up.”

“By throwing Nora into the dirt?” Antony yelled, obviously disgusted by the very suggestion, the words thrown from his mouth like poison. His love for his sister eminent in the way his tone softened around her nickname.

“During your stay at court you will learn the reality of the world, my son.” Lord Perigord snarled. “You knew this to be my intention, to present Eleanora to the King as an… option. You do understand what a success of this nature could mean. Favour for our family, your other sisters married off to Barons, Viscounts.” Perigord breathing was rapid, but he leant back in his seat and tried to relax himself.

Antony refused to settle at that, finding a new argument, “I don’t understand how you believe Nora to have a chance. The King is rumoured to be enamoured by the Queen.” The boy paused, “I have heard rumours… rumours of their love for one another, it is said to be great, that he refuses to take a mistress.”

Lord Perigord snorted, “And still he has a bastard son while Queen Mary is yet to produce an heir? The King and Queen’s union was arranged when they were barely more than babes, a political alliance between two countries, nothing more.”

“Perhaps they grew to love one another later?” Antony rebuked.

Eleanora thought it better to stay silent, she would thank her brother for his support later.

Perigord refused to let Antony rile him up once more, “You are truly ignorant. Love is not born of a nation’s desperation for support, and that same political desperation does not bode well for a happy marriage. The last four Kings have taken multiple mistresses, forgive me for being slow to believe our young King is bound in monogamy. Eleanora _will_ win the King’s heart.”

 

He said the last sentence with such certainty it sent a shiver down Nora’s spine. It was not self-reassurance on her father’s part, it was a threat. A threat to her.

 

* * *

 

The summer had been kind to France, all memory of war, plague and famine forgotten with the good harvest. The stomachs of the working man satisfied and full. Many praised the King this autumn, and looked to her with hope, for security... for an heir. She’d grown used to the prolonged looks her flat abdomen drew from her subjects, and though she did not enjoy their open wondering she could not blame them for it. A child further ensured not only her place at French court as well as her political power, but also a future for the people of France and Scotland, united under one monarch; a crown prince for two nations to grow loyal to before his ascension to their thrones.

The thought brought about a quickening low in her stomach.

“What do you think on, you look preoccupied?” Francis’ arms encircled her as she stood at the window still in her nightdress, drawing her into his bare chest. Mary laid her hands on his arms where they rested, settled around her.

“Two years have passed, Francis. Two years since my first harvest festival after my return from Convent, do you remember it?”

Francis rested his chin on his wife’s shoulder, looking out to see the servants setting up for the festivities. They strung the royal family’s colours across the marques, bunting of gold and blue. Flowers of every colour spilled from finely crafted vases.

“How could I forget?” The young King paused, breathing in softly, remembering how beautiful that day had been… before the supposed attempt on Mary’s life anyway, “You wore a white gown and red flowers.”

With a smile Mary’s hand came up, fingers lightly digging into the soft, blonde curls at the back of her husband’s head, bringing him down toward her. He moved, leaving his place behind her in order to face her. Francis let Mary take the lead. She dropped her hands to his chest and rose up to capture his lips in a short but mindful kiss.

“So much has happened since then, so many terrible things.” Mary muttered, not so much sadly but in an accepting tone.

“But here we are,” Francis continued, hands gripping her hips lightly, he walked her backward toward their bed. He wrapped his arms securely around her back, lying her slowly back onto their sheets.

“Yes.” Mary agreed breathily, her hands back in his curls again, running through them, drawing them away from his forehead so she could look on his face.

“Together.” Francis climbed onto the sheets after her, hands placed either side of her head. He dipped his head down and pressed a soft, promising kiss to Mary’s collarbone. “And very much alive.” Francis let his lips ghost over her pulse, a place below her jaw that never failed to garner a reaction from her. He grinned when she squirmed beneath him, gasping just barely.

There were only a sharp three raps on their bedroom door as warning before they were no longer alone.

Francis scrambled off Mary with haste, landing on the floor with a thump.

“Your Majesties!” The messenger spun around, his back now to the royal couple. He was but a boy, no more than sixteen, flushed from his ears down to his chest. “I apologise for the intrusion, I did not realise!”

“It’s quite alright.” Francis gulped, sharing a look with Mary. “Just allow me to fetch the Queen her robe before you face us.” Francis did up the strings of his linen hosiery before reaching for the robe.

“Of… uh, yes, course, your Majesty,” The boy stumbled over his words. “The matter is not urgent. It can wait if you wish, Sire.”

“No really,” Francis was almost inclined to laugh as he passed Mary her robe, the messenger’s embarrassment had distracted him from his own. “Please, you may face us and tell what your message is.”

Francis helped Mary from their bed, her hand leaving his to curl around his bicep as they stood and regarded the still very red-faced boy before them.

“Um… your opinion is sort after by the King’s deputy regarding preferences as to the number of guards needed during the festival, and what other posts they might be spared from.” The boy finished his message with a relieved sigh.

“It’s Barth, isn’t it?” Mary asked.

The boy seemed shocked that the Queen would know him by name, “Yes, your Majesty, Barth Kinee.”

“Barth, would you please return to my brother-in-law and inform him that the King is engaged in other matters but that 20 guards should be sufficient, and that chamber guards should be drafted in if need be. On your way out please inform our guards that no one should disturb us for another hour except under dire circumstances.” Mary’s eyes were fixed on Barth, whose ears had gone a startling shade of scarlet.

“Certainly, your Majesty.” With a sharp bow the boy exited quickly.

Francis turned to his wife, smiling widely, his fingers reaching for the ties of her robe. With his help Mary shrugged the offending fabric from her body.

Francis drew his fingers in a caress down her face, their gazes caught up, tangled together. His fingers travelled down Mary’s neck, brushing her hair from her shoulder, pulling the neck of her nightdress down to expose it. His hand fell against her lower back, drawing her closer. Francis dragged his lips across the dip of her neck as her fingers ran through the hair at the back of his head.

Mary walked backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed, tumbling, with Francis landing on top of her. The sudden movement startled her, which in turn caused her to let forth a loud giggle. Francis silenced her with a swift and passionate kiss, but there was no way their guards hadn’t heard her. They would make assumptions. The news that a messenger had ‘interrupted’ the King and Queen in bed was sure to reach the ends of wagging tongues by midday. Though, Mary decided, as Francis dragged his lips down her breastbone, she didn’t particularly care.

 

* * *

 

 

“Barth?” Kenna called after the young messenger as he hastily rounded a corner.

The boy came to a halt, turning to bow awkwardly to her, “Lady Kenna, how may I be of service.”

“I apologise for my distracting you from your duties, but you look unwell. You look… flushed. Do you perhaps have a fever?” The lady held her hand to the boy’s forehead, a worried frown replacing her carefree expression.

After the birth of her daughter Kenna had grown in her motherly attributes. She had never believed it possible that she might be that kind of person, but as it happened she was rather good at it. Amia had just recently been moved out of hers and Bash’s room into the royal nursery. It meant a new playmate for John, who was already a steady and adventurous one year old, and more peace and quiet for Kenna and Bash. It was a blessing under the circumstances, they were still rebuilding their marriage, the trust they had for one another.

When Kenna had returned from Sweden with a baby girl in her arms Sebastian had refused to hear her pleading, her excuses, her insistence that if he would ‘just look at her’, look upon the baby. Eventually, early one morning, he’d climbed from his bed and gone to the little girls crib. She’d been wide awake, just looking up at him, expectantly, and he had known.

 Kenna had known the third week after the early birth, all babies are born with blue eyes, but she had expected them to turn to that same steel grey she remembered. However, they never did, nor did they turn to her warm brown, but instead took on a soft Nordic blue hue she could not comprehend. A blue she knew by heart. She came to doubt, thinking back to the weeks, months, before she discovered herself to be pregnant. Perhaps the baby had not been born early after all. There was no doubt anymore, Amia was surely a De Poitiers.

The servant boy chuffed, regaining her attention, it was something akin to a laugh, “No my Lady I have simply embarrassed myself. No medical diagnosis needed.”

“Embarrassed yourself?” Kenna was eager to hear what the cause of this embarrassment was but did not wish to seem so, she kept her face open but still inquisitive.

The servant cleared his throat, “I uh… did not... um leave sufficient time between knocking on the door of their Majesties chambers... and entering...”

“Oh…” Kenna’s eyebrows rose, “Oh, and they were… ”

The boy squirmed a little, “Yes.”

“I see,” Kenna tried to not laugh, supressing the noise into a thin smile instead, “Well you would not be the first. Please do not let me keep you any longer, attend to your duties.”

“As a matter of fact my Lady I was on my way to deliver a message to your husband, the King’s deputy.”

“Well then I will accompany you.” Kenna smiled graciously, taking the lead and heading down toward the palace gardens. Sebastian was sure to be right in the middle of the chaos.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, at last.” Lord Perigord grumped, the carriage coming to a halt within the castle walls.

Eleanora’s anxiety only grew, her heart thumping. She didn’t want this, she wanted a good match, to a man she could marry and create a future with, not a King who would likely cast her aside like a used, dirtied glove when he was done. Her mother would never have stood for this if she still lived.

Perigord held his hand out to help his daughter from the carriage. Nora tentatively took it.

“My beautiful daughter,” The Lord appraised her, not with fondness but determination. Behind his gaze his mind pondered only plots and schemes, not love for his children.

“Lord Perigord!” Another noble approached the carriage. He gripped the hilt of his sword with purpose, his cool, blue eyes seemed to hold nothing but contempt for the older man.

“Ah, Sebastian De Poitiers. I heard rumours of your fall from grace but it seems perhaps those were ill-founded.”

Antony shared a look with his older sister. They’d both heard stories of the former King’s bastard, and this was what they had so far gathered from their father’s tales of court; Lord Roch Bossuet of Perigord did not like Sebastian De Poitiers. It seemed the feeling was mutual.

“Indeed.” The young man’s gaze remained sharp, seemingly intent on belittling the Lord, “For it is Baron De Poitiers now. As the King’s deputy I will be appropriating the King’s duties this morning.”

The man turned, clearing expecting the family to follow him toward the grounds of the castle.

“And what of the King?” The Lord continued, striding in pace with Sebastian, “He is indisposed this morning? An emergency perhaps, it seems strange his Majesty would concern himself with matters of state on a festival day.”

Sebastian sighed, the Lord never failed to drain him, a minute of the man’s nattering and already he was tired of it. Not to mention, Sebastian was no fool, it only took one look at the Lord’s daughter to realise exactly what the Lord’s aims were in his attendance at court. Perigord was not the first to try to gain favour in such an unfavourable fashion.

“The ‘emergency’ the King faces is that he wished to spend this fine morning with his Queen.” Sebastian said bluntly.

That quieted the Lord for a moment.

Antony looked to Nora to garner her reaction, but she did not look up and kept her eyes downcast as she walked behind her father.

Sebastian continued, “I’m afraid if you look to obtain even an informal audience with King Francis you will have to wait till the afternoon.”

“The King and Queen are not attending the festivities this morning?” The Lord frowned.

 “Not as of yet.” Sebastian wanted nothing more than to escape this conversation. “I’m sure they will arrive presently. Apologies, but I must attend to preparations for the feast.”

“Of course.” Lord Perigord agreed, but Sebastian was already gone.

“Father…” Antony began.

“Quiet.” Lord Perigord spun to face his daughter, “Eleanora, you will be introduced to the King this afternoon. You will charm him I’m sure.” Perigord would not accept defeat so easily, especially over mere speculation.

 

* * *

 

“I should take my leave.” Francis admitted, he was still wearing only loose linens, reluctant to leave Mary’s side, but she needed to dress for the festivities and so did he. He did not, at present, look very kingly.

Only a moment before three serving ladies had entered their chambers with Mary’s clothes.

“It’s important the nobles see you for what you are Francis; a healthy and _present_ young king. Only a few months ago there were wide-spread rumours of your ill-health. There will be many Lords from far regions of our kingdom here today, it’s important that you show them that you are strong.” Mary said passionately as her ladies servants fussed about her. “And while Bash seems to be doing a magnificent job handling the preparations the nobles will be expecting at least an appearance before noon.”

“Then I will not disappoint.” Francis smiled, rising to place a light kiss on her worried forehead. The three ladies were still present, watching.

All too soon he was gone and her ladies began their work, gently tying and pulling and tugging. Mary lifted her arms to have her corset fastened. Her lady, Yvaine, took hold of the ties and pulled insistently as always. Mary gasped, the pressure on her abdomen uncomfortable.

“Your Majesty?” Yvaine’s worried voice filtered through.

“Sorry,” Mary cleared her throat, feeling a bit nauseated, “Might you loosen the ties of my corset slightly today Yvaine I’m afraid I may have indulged too much at dinner yesterday and my stomach refuses to settle.”

Unbeknownst to her, Mary’s serving ladies shared a knowing look behind her back.

“Of course.” Yvaine loosened the ties a tad and secured the Queen’s corset.

 

* * *

 

“Baron De Poitiers!” Antony called out, drawing the King’s Deputy’s attention from across the gardens. Sebastian looked around for an escape but saw none.

“Antony Bossuet. Isn’t it? We’ve met.” Sebastian answered, the dread not lost in his tone. There was no reason for him to believe the son was any different from the father.

“We wanted to personally apologise for our father’s behaviour.” Antony said sincerely, gesturing to where Eleanora stood at his side.

Sebastian searched the young man’s features for anything untoward and found nothing.

“That’s quite alright.” Sebastian reassured them, softening toward the Lord’s children slightly. “I’m used to the contempt the circumstances of my birth entail.”  

“My father…” Antony moistened his lips, “You should know that though he looks down on you it is only in insecurity. You are young, strong, and rising in rank. He is envious.”

Bash smiled, a disbelief in his eyes, “You think the fact I am Bastard born to be irrelevant to him?”

Antony smiled, “God Lord no. I’m simply pointing out that he would harbour hateful thoughts for you either way.”

The King’s deputy let a sincere laugh escape him. “The candour in your words is refreshing. So many do not dare to be forthwith around me for fear of causing offense.”

In that moment a murmur ran through the crowd. Nora looked about her, people were smiling and whispering to one another excitedly.

Sebastian looked to Antony with a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth, “Stand straight, Bossuet. You’re about to meet the King.”

Nora panicked, her hand flying to rest over her ribs, calming her breathing. Her brother’s arm appeared and she took it.

It happened with a flurry of petticoats and a regal fanfare, announcing the presence of the King.

_“His Royal Highness Francis of the House of Valois, King Consort of Scotland and its Isles, King of France.”_

King Francis was handsome after all. Truthfully Eleanora had not expected the rumours to be true. He took more after the Medici’s than the family of Valois, who were known for their dark hair, as King Francis’ blonde curls were famed in their own right, and now they were adorned with a crown that suited them perfectly. His dark blue eyes scanned appraisingly over his subjects. With a finely embroidered doublet and a jewelled sword at his hip he looked every part the healthy young king he was. The rumours of his illness must be just that; rumours and nothing more.

Nora curtseyed deeply as the King approached them.

“Bash, anything I should be aware of?” Francis asked his brother.

“Everything seems to be progressing without fault.” Sebastian said warmly, obviously glad to see his brother.

“Good.” Francis looked about, his eyes flickering over the two Bossuets.

“This is Antony and Eleanora Bossuet.” Sebastian introduced them.

They bowed and curtseyed respectfully, eyes downcast. Nora felt quite unstable, terrified that the King would take an interest in her and yet also terrified that he would not, she grabbed onto her brothers arm as she rose.

“It’s an honour your Majesty.” Antony said.

The King’s smile was carefree and genuine, “I do enjoy new faces at court, and I hope you enjoy yourselves.”

“Looking around I find it hard to consider that we might not, the festival looks wonderful your Majesty.” Nora finally spoke up, smiling graciously. Though she might not be keen to bed the king being in his good graces was something she was hoping for.

Francis regarded the opulent tents, glorious smells, and bright colours about him.

“You’ll have to thank my brother for that, and my wife of course, though I would love to lay claim to the presentation of this wonderful celebration I’m afraid this is not my good work.” Francis leant Sebastian a fond glance.

“Speaking of Mary, when might we find ourselves graced with the Queen’s presence?” Sebastian questioned in a half-joking tone.

“I know our entrances have both been delayed. Blame me if you must, truthfully it was my doing. However, please do not hold it against Mary that I arrived first, I only had to dress myself in a clean shirt, whereas it does seem to take a much longer time to do up one of her corsets than it does to undo one.” King Francis was drawn away by a Duke before he could ponder what he’d just implied. He left behind Antony’s raised brows and Nora’s deep blush. Bash on the other hand looked quite used to it.

“It was good to make your acquaintance, I hope we meet again soon, but I’m afraid I have to see to something.” With a nod Sebastian was also gone, striding off with purpose. It did not feel like he was merely making an excuse this time.

“You have a dire task ahead of you my dear sister.” Antony told Nora sympathetically, regarding King Francis analytically, thinking on the comments he’d made about the Queen.

As if to add specifically to her worry once more an excited flurry ran through the crowd, another fanfare blasting forth.

_“Her Royal Highness Mary of the Clan Stuart, Queen of Scotland and its Isles, Queen Consort of France.”_

The young woman descending the steps held her head high, raven hair falling about her face, perfect skin, and plump, deep pink lips set in a demure smile. Her gown was impressive, with intricate white lace laid over white fabric on her sleeves and bodice, her skirt embroidered with gold thread, fleurs-de-lis present in the design. She was barely more than a teenager at 20 years, though seeing her she was so clearly a woman. It did not take a particularly keen eye to tell that her beauty would only grow as she matured. More than her striking looks there was something about her, a resilience, and a power. It conveyed her rank without the need for an announcement. Nora would have known exactly who she was looking at without it, and known also, as she did now, that she could not win the King’s heart if this was his Queen.

The entire crowd seemed to hold its breath at her arrival, as struck by her as Nora was.

The King was of course the first to approach, offering his arm to his wife, which she took. Smoothing her thumb over his blue velvet jacket in a way that while so easily overlooked was so very intimate. Eleanora wouldn’t have registered it if she hadn’t been looking for it.

The King stayed by Queen Mary’s side much of the afternoon, and even when the King’s son was brought out to greet them the Queen stayed with her husband. Looking upon the small boy with nothing less than love, a blanket was lain out and she sat him upon her lap as if he were her own. Nora had assumed there would be discomfort there, but there was nothing but good-will. Nora did not believe she could steal away this woman’s husband, but more than that she did not wish too.

She watched as King Francis led the Queen away from the crowd.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have something for you.” Francis was eager to share his creation. They sat down on their blanket at the waterside, the hustle and bustle of the festival only a murmur now.

"And I for you, but it can wait." Mary admitted.

Francis accepted Mary’s strength, if she did not want to give this elusive something to him yet then he would have to be patient.

“Well then, allow me to present you with this.” Francis held out a circlet of red flowers to her, “A crown for my Queen.”

“Oh, Francis.” Mary breathed. The circlet was identical to the one she’d worn two years previously.

Francis placed the flowers on her head, appreciating the way the colour of them looked against Mary’s dark hair.

“And now my gift?” Francis grinned. Mary rolled her eyes at his childish earnestness.

“I’m afraid it may not arrive for many months yet.” Mary said shortly.

“Many months?” The King’s brow furrowed, “Where exactly does this gift hail from? Persia?” Francis smiled at the idea. It was strange, Mary had never been one to convey her love with expensive, exotic gifts.

“Not quite.” Mary was silent a moment after that, “But I’ve been told by three physicians to expect it around the Winter solstice.”

Francis’ eyes flickered down to where Mary’s hand rested protectively over her lower stomach.

“Physicians?” He repeated, his blue eyes widening in wonder.

With his obvious joy Mary became overcome too, tears collecting in her eyes.

“I’ve kept it quiet, only myself, Lola, and those three physicians are aware of my condition. I wanted you to be the first to know as soon as I was sure, I needed to be sure after last time, and there can be no doubting it now.” Francis seemed to have gone into wondrous shock, watching his wife intently, “I have begun to show, I believe my ladies suspect and I wanted you to know before rumours spread.”

“Mary…” was all Francis managed. A hand went to his wife’s cheek, wiping away a tear of joy. His lips chased hers and she found herself engaged in a kiss. Francis laid beside Mary on the blanket, tracing the ties of her corset, itching to undo them and press soft kisses to his wife’s bare stomach. He wanted nothing more than to be with her right now, and throw his duties aside. One arm held him up as he brushed his lips over her cheek and jaw, coming back to meet her lips.

“Francis.” Mary pushed her hands against his chest, bringing him back to reality. They were out in the open, watched by at least 4 guards, and had half the noblemen in the land gathered not more than 200 yards away.

She looked so beautiful laid out underneath him he couldn’t bear to move just yet.

“Later.” She promised.

With a defeated sigh Francis leant back on his arm, coming to rest beside Mary, his hands still itching to touch her he began to run his fingers over the lace on her bodice, tracing the designs over her stomach.

“How long have you known?”

“A while, it has been an easier secret to keep without your mother and her spies following my every move.”

There was a lengthy pause, both of them contemplating what the next step to take should be.

“We should make the announcement today.” Francis decided.

Mary reacted, drawing back, “Why? Can we not keep this between us a while longer?”

“Mary my mother was wrong about a great many thing but one thing she did understand completely was the way that being the mother of the Dauphin protects you.”

Mary frowned, teeth gritted slightly, “And makes me an even greater threat to Elizabeth.”

“She will know soon no matter what choice we make today.” Francis knew his wife appreciated the truth, and knew that this was it. “This way the Lords can go back to their towns, regions, counties, and spread the news. It will strengthen France. It will unite our countries.”

“I know you are right… but…” Mary faltered. The miscarriage of their last child still haunted her. She could not bear to lose this child too, it would destroy her. But she was regarded to be in good health, and was already much farther along than she had been before.

Francis took her hand and held the back of it to his lips, “We must have faith.”

 

* * *

 

Kenna murmured sweet ‘I love you’s to the baby on her hip. Amia had no clue as to what her mother said but the words soothed her, and they soothed Kenna too. She held her daughter close, stroking a hand over her feathery, thick, dark hair. Perhaps when the child was older she would resemble her mother more but in infancy she looked very much like her father.

Someone came to stand beside them, a hand on Kenna’s waist and a large, rough finger softly caressing the baby’s pink cheek.

“She seems bright today.” Sebastian commented, reaching out to take his daughter into his arms. Kenna obliged.

“The colours amuse her.” Kenna smiled as Amia looked up at her father and reached out to grab his nose. She might be biased but she knew her daughter to be the most endearing little girl at court.

“De Poitiers.” A man’s voice interrupted their blissful moment.

Kenna did not know who the older noble was but she saw her husband wither in his presence.

“Lord Perigord.” Sebastian said, his face conveying that he would much rather be looking upon his daughter than the man in question. “Might I introduce my wife, Baroness Kenna De Poitiers, and my daughter Amia.”

The man bowed just barely, disdain in his eyes as he spoke, “I am charmed.”

“How may I assist you?”

“I was going to inquire on the whereabouts of the King, I had hoped to introduce my children to his Majesty.”

Sebastian pursed his lips, “I believe the King to be down by the lake with the Queen, preparing the boats. And you needn’t worry about introductions as I already presented your children to the King earlier this very afternoon.”

A thunderous expression grew on Perigord’s face, “Humph,” was his only response as he marched off, no doubt to track down the children that had failed to report to him.

“Who is he Bash?” Kenna said as soon as Perigord was far out of ear-range.

“An opportunistic snob.” Sebastian carefully shifted Amia in his arms, “He’s one of many Lords that are ready to parade their daughters in front of Francis in the hope of political opportunities and appointments.”

“He wanted to present his daughter as a possible mistress.” Kenna stated.

“I looked into her eyes. I could see it was a forced pursuit.” Sebastian gritted his teeth, looking down to where Amia cooed in his arms softly, falling into sleep, “How could any man force that on their daughter.”

Kenna called for a blanket, and when it arrived she let Bash tuck their daughter inside it and he placed Amia back in her mother’s arms. They watched the baby sleep in peace a moment.

“I am-” Sebastian began.

“I know. So am I.” Kenna responded before he could finished.

“We’re here now.” Sebastian stated, brushing a lock of dark hair from his daughter’s forehead.

“Yes. We are.” Kenna smiled.

 

* * *

 

“Oh I’ve only been at court once before, briefly, when King Henry still reigned.” Lady Elissa Boffrand continued her nattering.

Nora nodded as if she were interested in the other girl’s words.

“But I’ve been at King Francis’ court since last winter now and I find the atmosphere to be quite… invigorating.”

Nora tilted her head, genuinely interested now, “Invigorating? How so?”

“Why,” Elissa continued, “The court gossip of course, there’s always something going on, it’s why I never fail to engage the servants in conversation. Many our rank oft forget their presence and speak openly.”

“How silly of them.” Nora agreed, her thoughts wandering away to consider what scandals might have developed within the walls of the castle.

“Quite. Just this morning I caught two chamber maids giggling over the news that some poor messenger boy…” The woman lowered her voice, “interrupted the King and Queen.”

“Interrupted?” The girl was momentarily confused.

“Walked right into their bedchamber.” Lady Elissa said, a smirk on her lips.

“Oh!” A hand flew to Eleanora’s mouth.

“Quite.” Elissa nodded.

“I was not aware that the King and Queen regularly shared a bedchamber.” Nora followed her new friend’s lead and kept her voice low.

“I have never known them to sleep separately. Though I have only been here a few months.” Elissa acknowledged, thinking back, “In all truth, there are a rare few times I have seen our King and Queen without the other at their side.”

Another fanfare sounded, drawing the attention of the crowd to the dais on which the King stood. His eyes even brighter than they had been earlier that day, burning with his youth and vitality.

“My lords, my loyal subjects, I thank you for your attendance and your fealty. These past years we have overcome many challenges, faced many foes, and united we have beaten them all.”

There was a roar of appreciation.

“Today we celebrate the fruits of our beautiful country. We offer our thanks to God for his blessing this past year. We have so much to be thankful for; the eradication of plague, a new period of security and peace, the plentiful harvest France has offered us this year putting an end to famine, and now the impending birth of an heir to my throne.”

There was a rush of shocked expressions, excited clapping, and congratulating.

“By the end of this coming winter France shall have a Dauphin once more.” King Francis’ wide smile and shining eyes were infectious it seemed; the Lords and Ladies before him reflected his good mood. “The Queen has retired to the royal chambers to rest but will join us for the banquet this evening. Please, continue to celebrate and enjoy yourselves.”

Nora saw that Sebastian was the first to approach the King, pulling his brother into a firm hug.

Lady Elissa laughed beside Nora, who had all but forgotten she was there, “I feel shamed to say I had no suspicions of this.”

Eleanora observed the rest of the nobility, all with similar looks of surprise and wonder on their faces, “I’m fairly sure you are not alone in that respect.”

“Quite.”

 

* * *

 

“Mary?” Francis said, slipping into their chambers, quietly as possible so not to wake her if she was sleeping.

“Francis?” A groggy voice answered from their bed.

“Were you sleeping?” He berated himself, he had not meant to disturb, just check on her.

“No just resting.” Mary was sat up, leant back on pillows. She reached out her hand as if to beckon him closer. “Shouldn’t you be greeting Lords and charming Dukes?”

The fire crackled low behind him, the warm light casting shadows. The room was dimly lit as the servants had pulled the heavy curtains closed.

“I needed to see you.” Francis sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of his.

“I’m perfectly fine. Sir Mathius insists that tiring easily is to be expected.” She reassured her husband. Rene Mathius was the Valois family’s most trust physician. He had been the one to deliver two of Francis’ siblings.

They sat in quiet a moment, at peace in each other’s company.

“Madeleine.” Francis pressed his mouth to Mary’s knuckles, watching for her reaction.

“A girl’s name?” She seemed taken aback.

“My grandmother’s name.” Francis laughed, “…Fine. If we should have a son: James. James the first of France.”

Mary looked unconvinced, “A very Scottish name for a French King.” She posed it like a question.

“He would be King of Scotland too, and we shall compromise, James Francoise of Valois. How’s that?”

Mary nodded, it was a good name.

“Though I think…” Francis placed his warm palm over her stomach, feeling the slight curve of a bump beneath his fingers. How had he overlooked that? It seemed so prominent to him now, “Her name should be Madeleine Antoinette, after both our grandmothers.”

“Why so suddenly this insistence on a girl?” Mary said, fingertips tracing the stubble around his jaw.

“I remember you as a child. Always getting into trouble, climbing trees, running away from the nannies.”

“You did all those things too, don’t you remember?”

“They were your idea.”

“Is that blame I hear in your tone Francis?” Mary tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

“Admiration.” He rectified. “I always respected your spirit.”

Mary leant forward and left a kiss on his brow. “And I yours. Do you not think our sons will have spirit as well?”

“You are so beautiful, Mary.” Francis moistened his lips, a hint of embarrassment in his expression, “Is it selfish of me to long to hold a daughter in my arms that has been made entirely in your image?”

“No. I hope the same for our sons, that they might be blessed with your curls, your face, and your heart.” Mary admitted, her fingers now tracing his brow where she had kissed him, imagining the face of their son as a grown man, the very likeness of his father.

“Whatever the outcome, whoever they may be,” Francis said, his voice lowered, “I will love them for what they are; a new life formed of us.”

“…of us.” Mary repeated, pausing a moment, “I like that.”

 

* * *

 

“Eleanora.” Lord Perigord hissed. He’d been searching for his daughter for a good hour or more, scanning the crowds with beady eyes.

“Father.” Nora found her arm grabbed. She was dragged from her conversation with a few ladies of the court and forced to face her father.

The man’s teeth were gritted, “Why did you not inform me of your encounter with the King?”

Anger boiled under Nora’s skin, her heart pumping in her chest. She would stand for this no longer, “Because, Father,” She began, spitting the words, “I no longer wish to be your pawn. I will not be disposable, a game piece that you believe should be sacrificed for your self-centred perception of ‘the greater good’.”

Lord Perigord was shaking, his face red, “Need I take you aside and beat you child? You belong to me! I am your father, and I am your Lord. You will do as I say or you will find yourself cast out of my home.”

They were beginning to make a scene. Anthony took note of it, making his way through the throng to his father and sister.

“No,” Eleanora said, her nerves steeled, “You will allow me to stay at court. I will charm nobles, create connections for you. Lady Elissa Boffrand has taken liking to me. She is the youngest daughter of the Duke of Burgundy and has recently had a vacancy among her ladies-in-waiting. She has offered me the position as long as her father is agreeable. With her guidance I might achieve a advantageous match, and therefore open doors for my sisters.”

“And you expect me to allow my daughter to gallivant around court unchaperoned?” Perigord was shocked at the suggestion, “I will not allow it.”

“I will keep an eye on her.” Antony announced, appearing to his father’s left.

“Antony?” Perigord looked scandalised.

“I am a second son father, I will not inherit, and I am not your property. The King’s Deputy has offered me a position as his dependent and I intend to take it.”

“MY SON,” Lord Perigord shook openly with rage, “SERVANT OF A BASTARD?”

Nearby nobles looked to the older man, frowns and disgusted glances sent his way following his outburst.

“Father, please.” Nora hissed, embarrassed.

“Watch your tongue father he is King’s brother!” Antony reminded Perigord, “And more than that he seems a good man. I would be his companion, not his servant, and accompany him on the King’s business. Father this is an opportunity for me to rise and be of service to my country, my King.”

“No. I will cut you off. I will not allow it.”

Antony nodded acceptingly, “Do as you wish, but the position comes with a fair wage and lodgings here at the castle. Just know that if you cut me off I will not allow you to benefit from my good fortune should I be successful.”

Lord Perigord looked between his two children, utterly torn apart at their sudden refusal of his wishes.

“If you should fail do not look to me.” It was all the man said before turning away and striding off to go lick his wounds.

When he was well out of ear-shot Eleanora squealed, hurling herself into her brother’s arms, “Oh Antony I’m so proud of you!”

“And I you my dear sister,” Antony squeezed his eyes shut as he held Nora, pulling away after a few short moments, “I would never have had the courage had you not spoken up first yourself.”

“I think this shall be fun.” Nora grinned widely at him. Wider than she had done in a long while.

“And I think I shall have trouble mustering a regret to send out with my boat.” Antony admitted as he looked upon his new home appreciatively.

 

* * *

 

The nobles looked on as the King held the Queen firmly to his side as the couple made their way to the lake’s short, wooden peer. Many had their focus on Mary’s stomach, the others watched her face intently. She simply elected to overlook it, and took comfort in their interest. She did carry their future ruler after all.

Francis knelt, Mary’s boat in his hands, he sent it off softly. He held out his hands and his own little grey boat was placed in them. He sent it off with an assured smile.

“I have a secret, Francis.” Mary told him as they walked back up to the castle, a banquet awaiting them inside.

“Do not keep me in suspense.” Francis said, his hand landing on the small of her back as he directed her around the ropes of a marque.

“My regrets… my paper was blank.” She did not meet his eyes, but kept them fixed downward, smiling.

He raised a brow, “I…”

“I have no regrets.” She answered his unfinished question. “Not when my mistakes have brought me here, because Francis…” The words caught in her throat, tears rising.

He slipped his right arm further round, encircling her waist, taking her left hand in his to steady her. Her tears blurred her sight and he was determined that he would not allow her to fall.

“Francis…” She took his left hand, the one she had been holding and rested it over her lower abdomen, over their child. “I am so very happy.”

 

* * *

_(Send me prompts![@kingsandbastards](http://kingsandbastards.tumblr.com/))_

_If you would like me to continue this and detail the end of Mary’s pregnancy as well please shoot me a comment, I’d love to know if there’s any interest in that because it’s something I’m considering writing…_


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